Thompson
by Irhaboggle
Summary: Ever since they first met, Emily and Thompson had been intrigued by one another. Enchanted, even! Neither had believed in love at first sight, but this seemed pretty close. He thought she was brilliant and she thought he was charming. They were a match made in Heaven even though they were a pair stuck in Hell.
1. I Don't Understand

"Thompson, your subject is here," the doctor's voice was clipped and cold as he shook the girl he was holding onto with a death-grip. This was Emily, with no last name. She was an inmate here at the Asylum For Wayward Victorian Girls. Although she cringed in pain at the way the doctor shook her, it was not him that she was looking at. It was the man, the boy, standing in front of them both.

"Thompson," Emily whispered the name under her breath as she studied him, speaking with a kind of surprised wonder. Thompson was a man, clearly, there was no doubt about that, but he seemed... different. He seemed... kinder, smaller, newer, weaker... nobler.

As Emily continued to stare at his youthful face and the short, slightly curly brown locks that framed it, she felt something funny stirring up inside of her. She was barely even aware of what he was saying to the doctor still holding Emily's arm in a death grip. All she heard was a soft, gentle voice, caring and lilting with excitement. She couldn't hear his words, but she could hear his voice, and it was just as different from the doctor's hollow tone as the night was from the day. Emily could only stare as this Thompson fellow discussed with her doctor before turning his eyes, they were a soft and beautiful blue, from him to Emily. Emily felt that warm, fuzzy feeling increase.

"Well, Ms. Emily," he greeted politely. "I am sure it will be a pleasure to work with you!" and there was so much sincerity in his voice that Emily could only gawk, wondering if this wasn't all just an act, or if the man was in the wrong place, or if he wasn't slightly mad as well.

"Don't let your guard down around her, Mr. Thompson," the doctor voiced Emily's thoughts, though his tone was far more condescending. "She may seem docile now, but I assure you that she is a wild one and no good will ever come from letting your guard down around her!" he shook her again, practically spitting these words at her.

Reflexively, Emily felt her eyebrows furrow in anger. Although the doctor had a point, she was in fact a danger, especially to men, it wasn't like she was going to automatically kill all men in sight. She wasn't going to murder Thompson the moment they were alone together. She was a human, not a monster. It was the doctors that killed on spot, based on gender alone. Emily wished she could say such things, but knowing that it would be a death-sentence to do so, she only continued to stare at the floor.

"Don't worry sir, I am sure she and I will get along beautifully" Thompson replied calmly, and Emily jerked her head up again in surprise. Had he really just said this too? Was he really so sure? Or was he bluffing? And if he was sure, how did he know? Now Emily was sure she would never kill this man. He was too interesting. And besides, he had done nothing to harm her yet, so what rhyme or reason did Emily have to take up arms against him? Damn what the doctor said. Yes she was dangerous, but only to the guilty. She wasn't going to hurt a man she only just met. Especially not one so intriguing. This man was not guilty. Emily wouldn't harm him unless he became so. But she had the feeling he wouldn't...

"Well, do not hesitate to ring for me at the first sign of any trouble from her," the doctor replied, a growl entering his voice. It was clear that he didn't like how Thompson was so unafraid of someone like Emily, but with nothing else to do, the doctor was forced to release Emily's arm and leave the room. So he did. The moment the door shut behind them, Thompson turned to Emily again, that warm and open smile upon his face once more. He was very pretty, and Emily felt as though she were staring, trying to memorize every line and contour of his handsome and playful visage. He was so different from all the other men she'd ever seen before...

"Let me take your picture," he began, gesturing with his head to the large object set up near the back of the room. He beckoned for Emily to follow him to it, but made no move to physically guide her over. Emily wasn't used to such a treatment like this, but she quite liked it.

"Is that a camera?" she asked as they both walked over to the object together.  
"Yes, it is," Thompson confirmed. "And when I light the powder..." the camera clicked, sending off a bright flash.

"Oh!" Emily giggled in surprise despite herself. "How long does it take?"  
"Well, are you very good at sitting still?" Thomson answered her question with a question, giving her a playful smile.

"Why do you ask?" although, normally, having a question answered with another question made Emily nervous, Emily could feel it in her bones that Thompson was not trying to trick her into saying something wrong. Instead, he genuinely wanted to know, and he was teasing her a little bit, and Emily found that she actually enjoyed it! She even chuckled a little when she answered him.

"If you're not then, we'll have to clamp your head in place," Thompson replied, still smiling, as he pulled out a large set of metal clamps from the bag he had resting beside his camera. Emily's jovial mood vanished at once and turned to abject shock and horror.  
"You really do that?" she gasped. Weren't photos supposed to be a mark of high-class culture? And weren't they supposed to be expressions of the subject? What was with all the talk of clamps, then? Emily felt her pulse quicken just a little as Thompson showed them to her.  
"You'd be surprised how often," Thompson replied, chuckling again. Unlike Emily, he had no fear of the clamps. In his mind, clamps did only that. They were there to keep things in place, and to use them on the subject of a photo was quite natural. He didn't have all the negative associations that she did about clamps, causing him to treat the metal set calmly, blind to Emily's own discomfort.

"I've had enough of clamps," Emily said sadly, and Thompson finally seemed to realize that the tools were making her uncomfortable. But he still didn't quite understand why.  
"I don't understand," he said, confused. He set the tool down to make her feel safer, but his words negated his actions and Emily's sad look grew.

_He doesn't, does he? _She asked herself. Her eyes held such a painful past that Thompson quickly looked away, unable to stare too long into her eyes in case he saw something private. Meanwhile, he cursed himself for showing her the clamps. Though he had only been trying to show off his cool tools, it was clear he'd accidently triggered a bad memory within her and it made him feel bad. He hadn't meant to scare her.

Thompson, still refusing to meet Emily's eyes, allowed his own to idly roam her body. Unlike all the other men who had gazed upon Emily's figure before, Thompson was not trying to assess her beauty or sex appeal. Nor was he fantasizing about what lay underneath her simple asylum frock. He was genuinely only trying to get to know what she looked like and, because he couldn't bring himself to stare at her face now, he began to observe her body instead. He noticed a variety of injuries lacing up and down her exposed skin and it horrified and concerned him.

"What are all these bruises?" he asked, true sympathy in his voice as he looked at the black and purple marks dashed across Emily's limbs.  
"Do you know where you are?" Emily replied, nothing but that same sadness as before in her voice. Usually, when any of the men Emily knew dared to ask where she had gotten so beaten up from, she would give them a biting, sarcastic reply. But Thompson seemed so genuinely concerned that Emily could not find it within herself to be angered by his ignorance. Instead, she was only surprised. How couldn't he know? Wasn't it clear?

"These lacerations!" Thompson gasped as he realized that Emily didn't just have nasty bruises, but there were marks all over her slender frame that indicted real, human abuse. Of course the bruises could've come from humans too, but people could lie and say she'd merely fallen over. Cuts like the ones Emily had were far more obvious in the fact that they were human-inflicted. Some even looked self-inflicted... It genuinely hurt and scared Thompson to see them.

"May I look?" he asked politely, carefully, pointing to Emily's scarred arm. His eyes were gentle and his tone was respectful.

"What's all this for?" Emily replied, but because Thompson had asked so nicely, she still obediently held out her arms for him to inspect. Emily couldn't remember the last time someone had given her the choice to say yes or no...

Although Emily had borne her scars to the doctors many times before, never ever had a single one of them ever asked if they were allowed to do so. Instead, they would only demand that she hold out her arms and surrender her secrets to them. But Thompson? He had asked. This was the first time Emily ever showed her arms as an agreement instead of an obligation. Unlike with the doctors, Emily didn't mind that Thompson wanted to see her scars. He was only curious, concerned, but the doctors had always been trying to read her scars as something else, to use them as another piece of "evidence" that she did not belong amongst the company of normal folk. But even though she knew Thompson was only curious and would bring her no harm, she was still confused as to why he was so intrigued with her injuries at all...

"Why is she here? She doesn't seem to be insane at all," he muttered softly as he continued to look at Emily's arms respectfully. Emily wasn't quite sure how to answer, so she didn't. Instead, she could only wonder why Thompson was so ignorant, yet so interested as well.

But sensing that he was getting off topic, Thompson finally reeled himself in and shook his head as though to clear his mind.  
"Would you allow me to place these flowers in your hair?" he asked, slowly lowering Emily's arm back down again to return to his bag of tools. Instead of pulling out clamps or any other metal object, though, he pulled out a bouquet of flowers. He offered the large collection of flowers to Emily and, suddenly, he was unable to look her in the eyes again. Emily was sure she was blushing too as she looked at the bouquet, and that blush grew when she realized that he was asking her to choose. The reason there were so many types of flowers all in this one bunch was because he was asking her which one she liked best. That gesture touched Emily beyond words and suddenly, she was just as unable to look at Thompson as he was unable to look at her. His eyes were still glued to the ground as he kept on holding out the bouquet of flowers to her.

Eventually, Emily chose the springs of rosemary in the bouquet and he jumped when she touched his hand to indicate that she'd made her choice. He stuttered an apology, set the bouquet back into his bag, and shakily took the rosemary sprigs in Emily's hand. When their fingers brushed again, he looked like he was going to melt away in embarrassment and Emily had to bite back a shy and giddy giggle of her own. He grinned sheepishly as he took the flowers and began to stutter when their fingers touched.

Emily found all of this shyness incredibly attractive, but even more than that was the fact that Thompson had asked her permission if she wanted the flowers or not. Once again, he had given her another chance to say no, another chance to have power over him. That level of respect, especially from a man, was foreign to Emily. Never had any doctor asked her permission for anything! Yet here Thompson was, asking with those four special words that made Emily's heart glow with pride and dignity: "would you allow me?" Would you allow me?

"He seems so nervous!" Emily observed as she nodded her consent for Thompson to use the flowers. Yes, she would allow him.  
"Pardon me," he stuttered when he accidently brushed her cheek while placing the rosemary into her scarlet locks.

"He's very pretty!" she added to herself as she continued to watch him work. Without meaning to, she had begun to smile up at him, and the smile was breathtaking just because it was real, natural and honest. It was not forced or satirical, it was a real and honest-to-goodness smile. When Emily realized she was smiling so love-struck up at Thompson, she nearly giggled at herself, demanding to know why she had suddenly gone so weak in the head, and the knees, and pretty much everywhere else as well.

"There now! Better than by far!" Thompson said at last, pulling away from Emily's hair as he finished braiding the last sprig into her locks. He looked quite pleased with himself and Emily and he even handed her a mirror, allowing her the rare luxury of indulging a bit of vanity. Emily, at first, wanted to refuse the mirror, thinking herself far too ugly to look upon, but Thompson was smiling so brightly at her that she began to wonder if some magical transformation hadn't occurred after all. For that, she obediently took the mirror from Thompson and peeked inside.

Emily touched her fingers to her cheek in amazement. She still wasn't that beautiful, but all things considered, she looked gorgeous! And the flowers were so marvelously braided in with her hair. If Emily hadn't been in love with Thompson before, she was now, in love not just with his politeness and respect, or even his talent, but in his ability to make her feel beautiful. It had been a long time since anyone had ever looked at her with any amount of pride in their eyes, but now here Thompson was, beaming at her and the flowers in her air. To him, she really was gorgeous, and to hear him say it made her feel that way too!

But the she remembered. She lowered her hand from her face again to reveal the mark on her cheek.

"Should we hide the scar?" she asked, somewhat embarrassed and uncertain. She looked away from the mirror in disgust with herself.  
"No!" Thompson reassured her. "The scar is beautiful! It's like a heart!" and he meant this in the best way, but Emily's esteem had been shattered again by seeing the ugly mark that marred her face. To her, it was a reminder of what an outsider she was. To hear Thompson call it pretty was like hearing him say she deserved to have to wear it. To her, it was a mark of her suicidality. To hear Thompson call it pretty was like hearing him say that he was making light of the fact she had tried to end her own life, an act considered a mortal sin by most! To her, the scar was a brutal wake-up call back into the harshness of reality. To hear Thompson call it pretty was a painful reminder of how different she really was from him. Though the logical side of her knew that this was entirely untrue and Thompson had only been trying to encourage her, the emotional side of Emily lashed out.

"I'm like Ophelia once again!" she cried to herself as she shoved the mirror back into Thompson's hands. "Is it ever over? Will it never end? What accounts for this morbid fascination with the suicidal girl? Pretend to drown, you moan and sigh, the only thing you're not told is the reason why! This obsession is madness, at its most perverse, but my God, what in the world could be the purpose of this game? When every time it ends the same? Poor Shakespeare's turning in his grave! But still I must behave! Doctor's little slave..." without even meaning to, Emily had almost begun to glare into the distance, imagining Dr. Stockhill's ominous form coming to drag her away to Hell again. Anger, fear and hurt surged within her body and she could only stare in the distance, seeing everything and nothing...

"No, no that's perfect!" Thompson murmured, bringing Emily back to the present. "Don't move an inch! That's far more real!" he begged her. He didn't seem to realize that her spacing out had been a mini blackout on her part, and not her attempt at a natural pose.

"I've never seen a face like yours!" he whispered to himself as he jumped behind his camera. "The world should look upon it!" he insisted to the both of them, but after remembering what he had come here to do, he laughed at himself a little. "Well, I suppose that's why they brought me here!" he said, and then he proceeded to take Emily's picture...

About 20 minutes later, the photoshoot was over and the doctor had returned to collect Emily.

"Miss, I thank you," Thompson told Emily politely as their time together came to an end. He offered to shake hands with Emily. Respectful as this was, Emily was so surprised to be offered a hand by a man that she couldn't think of what to do in response. Instead, she only looked away from him uncomfortably, uncertain of what she was really supposed to be doing right now.

"I've done nothing," she insisted quickly, not meeting his eyes. He let his hand drop, but continued to smile fondly down at her.

"You've done more than you!" he promised her fervently and she managed to look up into his eyes again. Nothing but honesty and a genuine satisfaction and desire to work together again some time was written upon his face. Emily was still amazed by it, by the high level of openness and enthusiasm in this man, but it made her feel strangely hopeful as well.

"I haven't heard those words in years!" she breathed, still gazing up into his light blue eyes, enchanted with them and the man who owned them. He was just so sweet and appreciative! Most of the men Emily knew despised her and were anything but appreciative.

But then their meeting came to an end. Right as the clock struck on the hour, the doctor had returned. Their session was up.

"The doctor's coming for me!" Emily whispered in fear as the doctor strode over confidently to her and grabbed her arm at once. She had to fight the urge to yelp in pain because even though his grip wasn't hard, because she had almost forgotten what it felt like to be forced around during her hour with Thompson, this harsh return to reality hurt. Thompson hadn't touched her at all except when he got her direct consent. The doctor didn't even bother to look at her as he sank his nails into her arms. The contrast was painful, and then he proceeded to shackle her again before making to lead her back out of this room and to her cell.

While Emily was already resigned to allowing the doctor to have his way with her, Thompson was taken aback by the sudden and open brutality that this gentleman of science was showing to this polite young girl.

"Why must she be chained?" he demanded in anger and concern as the doctor began to yank Emily away from him. "I don't understand!"  
"He doesn't, does he?" Emily despaired, fearing for his safety as the doctor whipped around at him.

"Because she is a dangerous inmate who must be locked away to keep everyone, including herself, safe!" he snapped. "As I told you before!"

"But she isn't dangerous!" Thompson continued bravely, and stupidly, trying to defend Emily's honor. It took all of Emily's strength not to outright tell him to shut up before they were _both_ punished.

"I am a doctor, son," the doctor shoved his face into Thompson's, eyes burning into his very soul. "Don't try and tell me what I do and do not know about my own patients!" and at last, Thompson seemed to get the hint and he respectfully, albeit reluctantly, nodded his head.

"Very well," he muttered submissively.

"Good," the doctor gave him a threatening smile before straightening up again. Then he turned around once more, dragging Emily with him. Emily shot Thompson a sad glance, silently pleading for him not to worry, but to try and see her again eventually.

"But it was still a pleasure working with you, Ms. Emily! And I would be honored to work with you again in the future!" Thompson dared to call out to her. The doctor stopped dead in his tracks and Emily felt her blood run cold, but the doctor did not turn around. Instead, he only started walking again after a few seconds and Emily breathed a sigh of relief. She could tell the doctor was furious beyond words, but he wouldn't take it out on Thompson. That was a relief to Emily!

"Goodbye, Thompson," she mouthed, turning her head to face him as she was continuously dragged out of the room.

"Goodbye, Emily," he responded, heart breaking as she was torn away from him. He reached out to her and she did the same, then she was finally forced out of the room altogether. The doctor slammed the door shut behind himself and Emily, and Thompson was left alone again, staring sadly after the girl had was sure he was falling a little bit in love with.

"Dangerous?" he asked himself as he finished packing up his camera and other tools. "That doctor must be a madman! I just don't understand!"

**AN: As you will all come to know in my Book Canon fics, Emily and Thompson are my BIGGEST OTP! Like, y'all don't understand how cute and sweet and adorable I find them to be! It makes my already romantically sappy heart turn into an even bigger, mushier, sappier pile of romantic goo! (Sorry if that sounds weird). There's just so much I could extol about the EmilyXThompson thing! You'll all come to see it, and you'll probably start to hate me for it, but I WILL go down with this ship!**

**Now read Chap 2 for more sickeningly sweet moments from these adorkable little cinnamon roll-sweetheart lovebirds! (I thank EA every day for making them such an amazing couple)!**


	2. Very Strange

Lucky for Thompson, his employer agreed to allow him to return to the Asylum for Wayward Victorian Girls and become its unofficial official photographer. He also managed to convince the head doctor, Dr. Stockhill, to allow Emily to be the one whom he took pictures of. He did photograph other girls from time to time, as per the doctor's request, but he managed to make it so that Emily was his primary muse. This pleased them both greatly, for as much as they loved the other inmates, they were each other's favorite.

Thompson was busy unpacking his things, trying not to let his eagerness show upon his face. Emily would be here soon and he couldn't wait to see her again! Quickly trying to fix his hair and straight up his suit, the young man used his mirror to assess his looks. Satisfied, he returned his attention to his beloved camera, still impatiently waiting to hear Emily arrive through that door. His wish was granted 15 seconds later and his ears pricked up in delight as he heard the tell-tale sound of feet running towards the room. Emily was here!

"I'm glad to see you! I was hoping you'd come!" he greeted as walked in. He turned around slowly to maintain a mask of calmness, but in truth, he was feeling nervous and giddy already just by watching her float so elegantly inside. She may have run all the way here, but once she reached the door, she returned to a light and airy walk. She was so beautiful and powerful! Thompson was surely in love!

"I was hoping that too," Emily replied, voice soft and sweet. It was high-pitched and gentle and Thompson felt his heart melt even more. How could you not just fall in love with that adorable voice?

She could just sound so tender and loving that Thompson had fallen in love with her songs just as much as he'd fallen in love with everything else about her. It made him feel special inside to hear that voice coming from Emily because she had assured him that he was the only person who ever heard it. He was the only one to ever see this sweeter and more vulnerable side to her. The fact honored and flattered him equally. Apparently, her regular voice was sullen and gruff, but when she was with him, nothing could be further from the truth. It was high, soft, sweet, and warm. It made Thompson want to giggle, but he forced himself to look at least a little bit composed and he swallowed down his playful laughter.

"Out in the hallway, who were you running from?" he asked, partly curious and partly playful as he explained to Emily that he had heard her coming because he had heard her feet smacking against the floor quickly and violently.  
"I was running to you," Emily replied with a coy and sweet smile, knowing that it was exactly what Thompson would've wanted to hear her say. But it was true! It wasn't just an idle flattering remark from Emily. Since these photograph sessions were regular, the doctors had since stopped escorting Emily to them. They simply let her out of her cell and let her go on her own to Thompson and they would meet her in the hallway outside once she was done. For that, Emily really had not been running from anyone today. She genuinely had been running towards Thompson, just as eager to see him as he was to see her.

Hearing her say it aloud, though, made Thompson feel even more proud and flattered and he was sure he was blushing now! He even rubbed the back of his neck in the way he always did when he felt a bit embarrassed. It touched him to think his feelings for Emily were reciprocated and he felt so honored that she had been so happy to see him that she had come running. He felt the exact same way. She continued to smile teasingly at him, knowing just how badly she could fluster him in one little admission of love such as this one. He was cute when he was nervous! She continued to bat her eyes up at him to see if she could make his blush deepen. She wanted it to match the shade of her hair.

"But where do you want me?" the redheaded inmate asked finally, dropping some of her flirty mannerisms for a more sincere one. Though it was fun to make Thompson nervous and it was fun to tell him she'd been running to see him (because she loved the way his chest would puff out a little when she admitted as much), she also really did like getting to spend time with him and work on his projects with him. She like his pictures, they made her look and feel beautiful, and she liked to see how enthusiastic he got when he talked about his work, his art! She didn't just want to see Thompson because she wanted to hang out with him, it was because she wanted to create art with him. She wanted to feel like she was doing something good and noble with her life, something high-class and self-indulgent. She was just as invested in photography as Thompson was now. It was what happened when two artists combined their passions!

"What is it I'm meant to do?" she continued sweetly as she walked a circle around Thompson, eyeing him up and down playfully.

"Should I be smiling?" she affected a comically large grin.  
"Should I be looking at you?" she looked him dead in the eye, but Thompson had since frozen up and all he was doing was staring dreamily back.

"This is strange, very strange," Emily smiled, suddenly feeling a little bit nervous herself as Thompson continued to gaze so fondly at her. "I don't know why I'm here," she confessed at last, a hint of her true self bubbling up to the surface. She gave a concerned and confused look to Thompson, hoping for his guidance in this moment.

"Please, won't you tell me?" she asked. "Well, say something?" she repeated as he only continued to stare.

"Shall I sit?" she suggested, hoping onto the table in the room where Thompson had set his bag of supplies (this time, there were no clamps inside. He never brought those with him to the asylum, knowing how much they bothered Emily. This had been another little gesture of his that Emily had noticed and fallen in love with). But right now, Emily could only frown in confusion as Thompson remained almost like a statue, dazed in the eye.

But at last, as Emily waved a hand before his face, he finally woke up.  
"Sorry, I'm sorry," Thomson muttered embarrassedly, rubbing the back of his neck as he began to respond again, even shaking his head. "I wasn't thinking, but yes. You might come closer, if you don't mind, of course!"

"I don't mind, of course," Emily replied with a smile. His constant asking for her consent in all that he did never got old with her and it was easily her favorite thing about him. He never failed to make her feel loved, safe, respected, equal and important when he asked her permission. She was always more than happy to give it, but that was just because he asked so nicely, and he asked all the time. She hopped down from the table at once, leaning casually against it just like Thompson had suggested, more than happy to comply with someone who was so kind and friendly.

"Now if I may," Thomson reached out to her, a silent but clear request to move her body a bit into the pose he wanted.

"Of course you may," Emily nodded her consent and allowed Thompson to twist her body the way he wanted. Unlike when the doctors did this to investigate her and unlike when the Chasers did this to force her body into positions that please them the best, Thompson was very gentle and made sure to keep his hands in "safe zones". He touched her waist, her upper arms, and her shoulders, but never her legs or her hands or her face.

It was a small gesture, but it meant the world to Emily that Thompson was, in effect, monitoring his own behavior when he touched her. Why couldn't all the other men in Emily's life be so considerate? Thompson was proof that it was possible! Even though his job demanded it of him that he be around to move and pose his subjects to his liking, he managed to keep all of his physical contact as clear and gentle as possible. Emily's respect, affection and trust in Thompson was massive by this point, as he continued to touch her, but only in way he knew she felt comfortable with. What's more, he was gentle. Though he was twisting her body, he was not rough or forceful. If anything, his touch was more of a cue for Emily to move in that direction. Thompson, himself, just gave the signal, but it was Emily who moved her body, entirely of her own will.

"I confess, this is strange, very strange," Thompson murmured shyly as he continued to angle Emily just right. Though he never looked at Emily lustfully, ever since he'd started to develop romantic attraction for her, he always felt a bit daunted and embarrassed when he had to size her up. It was necessary for him to do this so he could get the best shot of her possible, but he still felt a bit giddy when he had to study her gorgeous figure so intently. Today, although she was leaning on the table calmly, her look was stormy and pensive, as though she was thinking of something far beyond the comprehension of normal men. Emily felt that the pose was very empowering and Thompson agreed. She looked so mystical and majestic, standing there with that intelligent gaze in the back of her eyes, not acknowledging the giant camera standing before her.  
But as Thompson began to stutter from his nerves, talking about how admittedly strange all of this really was, Emily began to smile.

"This is strange, very strange," she agreed, breaking her calm façade and grinning. Without meaning to, she began to turn her head towards Thompson and Thompson, instead of worrying that she'd just ruined her carefully-held posture, could only stare back, equally smitten. Both of them stared at one another in such interest and fondness. Their eyes were locked and neither felt compelled to break the connection.

"You're not what I thought you'd be," they said in unison, still studying one another intently and hopefully.  
"But I'm glad you're here with me," Thompson admitted at last, looking away bashfully.  
"I'm glad you're glad," Emily replied gently, not missing a beat as she smiled up at Thompson's adorable little grin of shyness.  
"Aren't you handsome?" he muttered into his suit's collar, then he stumbled back behind his camera.

Emily retook her pose, but this time, she couldn't help but smile a bit. Though she wasn't supposed to smile at all, Thompson made her too happy for her to be able to keep a straight face around him. Luckily, the feeling was mutual and Thompson ultimately decided to keep Emily smiling a little. Though it ruined the more serious and stoic effect that Emily's posture gave, the smile made her seem a bit more human despite her stoicism and it was a look that both she and Thompson agreed upon as being perfectly balanced, beautiful and natural.

Then, once the serious photos were over, Thompson and Emily proceeded to goof around a little like foolish school children. They laughed, teased, giggled, poked and prodded one another for all the time they had left together. They joked and played, messing around with Thompson's costumes and props. Emily wore a top hat and Thompson pretended to put flowers in his hair. They danced and waltzed around the room, laughing and singing. Emily made silly faces that Thompson laughed at and he made silly faces that she laughed at. Then, finally, Thompson set them both up for a picture. He and Emily had their arms around one another and while Thompson was giving his trademark childlike smile of wonder, Emily, herself, was grinning proudly at the camera as though trying to display the love between herself and Thompson through her smile.

The message was sent and received successfully. Thompson printed out two small copies of that picture, one for Emily to take back to her cell and hide in her pillow, while Thompson would keep the other one with him in his camera bag so that she would always be working to help inspire him, even if he was taking someone else's picture on that particular day. It was a very romantic gesture and that picture quickly became Emily's most prized possession and Thompson himself, though he could never share the picture with anyone else, even titled it "The Muse" and had it tied inside of his bag. That way, she would always be the first thing he saw before getting out his camera. It became like a charm to him!

"You're not what I thought you'd be," they said in unison again as their time together drew to an end.  
"But I'm glad you came to me," Thompson said, pocketing his new picture of them together.  
"I'm glad you're glad," Emily repeated, doing likewise, then she pressed a kiss to Thompson's cheek and he thought for sure that he could see fireworks brighter than the flash of his camera. He was surely in love! And so was she!

**AN: Like I said, I'm a hopeless romantic for these two. They are easily my favorite couple of the whole asylum. They are just TOO FREAKING CUTE FOR WORDS and you guys don't understand how much I'm in love with their adorkable and functional romance! They're a good male-female couple, respect and admiration mutual on both sides with low toxicity! **

**(Of course you could argue that Thompson's narrow view of the world harms Emily, but it's not intentional and he's not creepy, or sexual, or stalkerish, or rude, or commanding, or anything. He's so courteous and respectful! A true English gent! Like I repeated over and over in this fic, he's always asking for her permission to do things with/to her and I think that's just the sweetest thing ever!) **

**Thompson is the greatest feminist ally and he and Emily are GOALS! They're both so cute! Especially together! And the two songs Emilie gave them make my heart melt! Long live Emily/Thompson! The adorakable sweethearts who are the OG feminist couple that we should all aspire to be! I thank EA for giving them such wonderful duets! I die every time I listen to them (which is quite often).**

**(Sorry, done fangirling about this ship. For now...)**


End file.
